


you are a rose in the field where the wolves walk

by fallenidolandfalsefriend



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Era, Chapter 1 is rated T, Consensual, Cosmetics, Dominant Raoul, Embellishments, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecurities, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, Sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Touching, self-care, submissive Erik, why is raoul so horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenidolandfalsefriend/pseuds/fallenidolandfalsefriend
Summary: he thought it ironic doing such a routine to conform to absurd societal standards yet using it excessively which still lumped him together with the lowest of the low.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	1. the rose

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back again with my self-indulgent bullshit!
> 
> as someone who loves makeup and had done makeup on others for work, i realized how intimate it actually is. and i was like, hey, why not make raoul put makeup on erik and just be soft together (it got kind of out of control so it has a bit of sadness too lmao)!
> 
> this was something that i envisioned as a ficlet but here we are...with almost 6k words which is pretty wild because i don't usually write this long as my brain short-circuits at about 2k words.
> 
> chapter 1 is pretty T rated, the rating goes higher at the end of the next one! i’ve placed asterisks on chapter 2 to indicate where the rating changes.
> 
> —
> 
> i really enjoyed researching about the role of makeup during the victorian era and the beauty standards in those years were pretty scandalous. 😳
> 
> please keep these terminologies in mind:  
> [cosmetics](http://www.katetattersall.com/early-victorian-era-make-up/) \- anything applied to the skin of a medicinal nature  
> [embellishments ](http://www.katetattersall.com/early-victorian-era-make-up/)\- pastes, powders and paints, used to alter appearance  
> [makeup](https://www.etymonline.com/word/make-up#etymonline_v_2241) \- appearance of the face and dress
> 
> —
> 
> LETSGEDDIT!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> erik was anything but fond of mirrors.

Erik was anything but fond of mirrors. Regardless, his daily routine required him to make use of it. Unless he wanted to do a hideous job of trying to look presentable—if not beautiful—then he was unable to do anything about it.  
  
It came as a relief that with the help of his mask and wig, his deformity was out of sight. He did not tend to it as much as the exposed cheek. Though he was capable of taking care of it, he still detested the idea of touching it. Not only was the texture of his skin under his fingertips unpleasant, but it also reminded him of something he’d rather forget.  
  
The other side of his face, however, was not as offensive to look at. It was… _decent_ , but Erik did not want to settle for just short of satisfactory. He was, after all, a bundle of insecurities that could only be disguised with conceit. He seemed to excel at most things but what he lacked, he desperately compensated for.  
  
Erik made certain that he treated his face with extra care with the use of homemade toners, cold cream, lip salves, and the like. He would rise early in the morning and immediately tend to his face. He would wash his face with soap and water and use the cosmetics as intended. Once his skin had absorbed them, he would move on to the embellishments already laid out on the table for his use—pearl powder, rouge, kohl, and tinted lip salves—which would serve as the other half of his mask.  
  
Erik was very heavy-handed with the use of embellishments as opposed to what was socially acceptable and for good reason: he could not afford to look natural with what he had. He thought it ironic doing such a routine to conform to absurd societal standards yet using it excessively which still lumped him together with the lowest of the low.  
  
That said, it was not like he intended to surround himself with people. A truly laughable idea. It was one way to have a taste of normalcy. It was a practice done by society on a daily basis but pretended to not do at all.

Even for a short while, he felt like he was able to live in the same world as Raoul. A world where beauty reigned, but not a single soul compared to him. He was still unable to grasp the idea of a man from the upper crust even sparing him a second glance—or a glance, for that matter. Raoul looked at him as his equal even before a word had been exchanged.  
  
It would be a lie to say that Raoul’s charms never intimidated him. He thought Raoul was too good for anyone and no one good enough for him. He was, without a question, no exception. To this day, he knew he had not proved that he was at least deserving of him.  
  
Raoul, on the other hand, spent every moment letting Erik know how beautiful he had always found him—with or without his mask or other veils. It did take a long while before Erik accepted this. He could not bring himself to have faith in words which rang unfamiliar to his ears. There were always voices at the back of his mind—voices from his past—which questioned Raoul’s loving words. However, Raoul’s embrace would silence these ghosts in a heartbeat.   
  
Raoul respected Erik’s wishes and never once shamed him for his decision. He was not new to the subject of embellishments. He himself had sparingly made use of them. His brother’s social circle also consisted of people who gave too much importance to appearance but fell short when it came to beauty which cannot be seen. Raoul was only left to wonder why Philippe even bothered getting acquainted with them. Even though he would rather not associate himself with the likes of that crowd, he still wanted to please his older brother.  
  
He won’t pretend that he did not care for it. He did. He may not be the most confident about his appearance, but he knew he wasn’t inadequate. In fact, he was often put on a pedestal. When he met Erik, he was no different. He adored him. He _worshipped_ him. He had the strangest way of conveying his feelings but they were not empty nor were they words uttered to gain favor from a man in his standing. He realized that Erik placed him on a pedestal not because he owned the title of a viscount, but because he was unaccustomed to kindness and did not know how to express his gratitude.   
  
As their friendship blossomed, they were finally able to stand on equal footing. He felt like he could be himself the most in the presence of Erik, even more so than when he was with his brother. For the first time, he was free from the burdens of being a de Chagny.   
  
Raoul had known Erik long enough to come to terms with the fact that he needed more than his affections to gain confidence. After all, what mattered the most to him was Erik’s happiness and not what he thought would make him happy.   
  
This did not mean arguments would not arise from their conversations. Embellishments were notorious for the damage it brought to one's health. He worried that he might be doing himself more harm than good, especially when he made use of them excessively. Erik reassured him that he made them to be anything but harmful.  
  
Raoul knew Erik was intelligent enough to know what would best serve his interest but skepticism overruled his common sense. The solution he came up with was gifting Erik with ridiculously expensive beauty products from overseas. He insisted Erik to make use of them so that at least he could have some peace of mind about his safety. Erik, who was just as stubborn as the other, felt utterly insulted that Raoul underestimated his abilities to manage on his own.  
  
In the end, both of them were able to meet each other halfway. Raoul would let the matter go as long as he was the one to provide whatever ingredients he needed, and saw to it that they were of the finest quality. Without a doubt, Erik could afford whatever Raoul had arranged for him but he supposed that Raoul’s persistence to keep him safe felt rather nice.  
  
Erik felt his heart surge with fondness as he admired the sleeping figure on his bed. For the decades he had spent on his own, he had already accepted that waking up next to someone would remain a dream, and nothing more.

Since when had he become restless without Raoul’s presence in the room?

Painting his face with different hues was a routine that he considered very intimate—almost sacred. Never did he think that he would willingly share something so private with someone.

He supposed that things took a turn when Raoul started spending the night. He did not know what he was thinking to let Raoul do as he pleased. Raoul refused to sleep in the Louis-Philippe room alone and was willing to fit himself in his coffin bed if it meant he could sleep beside—pressed against—him, to which a baffled Erik turned the idea down. He eventually yielded to the young man’s demand and cursed those pleading eyes of his. Though nothing else took place, Erik still felt on edge sharing such an intimate space with Raoul. Placing a pillow to separate them—much to Raoul’s dismay—did not help much either.   
  
Erik slipped away from bed at night once Raoul was sound asleep in order to remove his mask, wig and the pigments on his face. In the morning, he would wake up ahead of him in fear that Raoul would get a glimpse of his bare face. He had already seen him once without any of those veils he donned yet it was still something he still found terrifying to grow accustomed to.   
  
His mistake came one morning when he slept far too long and Raoul had already gone up and brewed him a cup of tea. Erik muttered an apology and immediately turned his back on the young man. Raoul’s wrapped his arms around and kissed the back of his head. He sounded very apologetic for not understanding how difficult the situation must have been for him. He let Erik know that he can trust him and that his affections were not swayed so easily.  
  
If he still had his doubts, he proposed that he would not stay for the night until he was comfortable with it. He did assure him that he desired to be with him for as much as he could, but Erik’s wellbeing was of utmost importance.  
  
Erik cried in his arms that morning. He would have much preferred Raoul’s warmth beside him, but the truth remained on his tongue, unspoken.  
  
The process was slow and came with many misunderstandings and tears. The agreement did not do any good as both ended up suffering but neither of them brought up the subject.

Raoul’s arms no longer wrapped around him whenever he awoke with a nightmare. What used to be unfamiliar to Erik became something of absolute necessity to him.   
  
Until one evening, Erik managed to gain a little courage with the help of wine. It was not often Raoul saw him intoxicated and it was an amusing sight to behold. The masked man managed to come up with an entire monologue while he repeatedly poked Raoul’s chest with his forefinger. One moment he was furious and accused Raoul of neglecting him, the next, he was on his knees begging him to stay and make love to him. Raoul was dumbfounded to say the least. He thought himself hallucinating despite only drinking no more than a glass of the same wine. Erik never spoke of such things before.  
  
Raoul refused to take advantage of his vulnerable state and firmly dismissed his plea without a second thought. Sexual intercourse with Erik was not out of the question—perhaps it had been a question for a long time now which was still left unanswered—but his libido was nowhere near as important as Erik. Erik, on the other hand, was a stubborn drunk. He wept in his arms and tried to provoke him with insults. Raoul did not take offense at all and thought him more adorable than anything else. Erik continued with the insults until he fell asleep.   
  
A terrible headache roused Erik from his sleep the next day, and eventually came the mortifying events of the previous night. Learning that he was no longer with a mask, embellishments, or a wig did not help with the pounding in his head. He had no recollection of removing them from the previous night. Erik felt someone shift beside him. He quickly turned his head to the side and was greeted with a familiar face.  
  
Raoul.  
  
He felt the blood rush to his face as the events last night came flooding in. He lifted the sheets and was overcome with relief to find that he was wearing his nightshirt and Raoul his union suit. He also noticed that Raoul placed a pillow between them, something Erik would have done if not for his drunken state. 

He removed the pillow which separated them, crept closer and took in the sight of the man who gave him more than enough reasons to prove he was deserving of his trust. He gently brushed a strand of gold away from his face. He supposed that he ought to try harder to work on his shortcomings and give him his due.

He expressed his gratitude with a whisper and followed it with a light kiss on his cheek. He squirmed as Raoul suddenly wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for an embrace. His efforts to break away from him was futile, and thought it better that Raoul cannot witness how scarlet he had gone. He mumbled an apology for the shameful things he must have disclosed to him last night.  
  
“Why are you apologizing?” Raoul feigned a scandalized tone. “Did you not mean it when you said you wanted to—” Erik clasped his hand over Raoul’s mouth and grunted in disapproval.   
  
“I know what I said.” Raoul’s laugh was muffled by his hand. Erik withdrew from his embrace and looked at him in the eyes. “And I meant every word.”  
  
Raoul felt a shiver run down his spine and masked it with a nervous laugh. “And the rude remarks?”  
  
“That too. More so that part where I called you an idiot,” Erik smirked down at him.  
  
“Then you’re an idiot for wanting to make love to an idiot,” Raoul grumbled and pulled Erik down for a kiss.  
  
Things got better between them moving forward. The progress was anything but constant but it was an improvement.  
  
As Erik sat down in front of his vanity table one morning, he sensed that someone was watching him and true enough, he caught Raoul’s reflection observing him. The young man flushed in embarrassment as soon as he realized Erik was staring back at him and instantly muttered an apology. Erik waited for him to look away but instead heard the strangest request.   
  
“May I watch?” Raoul asked timidly.  
  
Erik was at loss for words but refused as soon as he recovered, and continued to do so no matter how often Raoul asked.   
  
Until came one of the days when his frustration over the tiniest mistakes he had made on his face overwhelmed him. Before he could shut himself in his coffin bed until he had calmed down by next dawn, Raoul woke up and bore witness to his pitiful state.   
  
Erik had never felt so humiliated. The boy probably thought him ridiculous to cry over something so petty. Raoul, however, expressed nothing of the sort and was rather very keen on helping Erik as much as he could.  
  
Erik was mostly reluctant about Raoul lending him a hand. Not only would it hurt his pride, but he was also very particular about the way he wanted his makeup. He doubted that he would be happy about the result considering Raoul’s lack of knowledge of his regimen. Besides, Erik was in no mood to teach Raoul, or anyone for that matter. His patience was already spread too thin.   
  
Much to his surprise, although Raoul did it with less finesse than him, he was far from upset at the result. Perhaps it was because Raoul distracted him with reassuring words of love and kisses.  
  
Raoul shyly revealed that he had been studying about the subject. Even though he had sisters, he had to resort to books since it was not something discussed so casually over dinner. He even tried to replicate Erik's style and used his own face as canvas must the situation call for it. He admitted it was very difficult to recreate with only his memory as a reference.  
  
Erik laughed to his heart’s content at the image of a ghostly pale Raoul with strong, arched black eyebrows painted over his blonde ones. Raoul narrowed his eyes at him, a tinge of pink across his cheeks, while Erik indulged in the comicality of his imagination. A kiss finally silenced the masked man.   
  
Erik supposed he could make do with decent this time.


	2. the wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was definitely a habit he was not proud of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **BE WARNED:** there are mature scenes by the end which consists of sexual acts and a bit of blood. if that makes you uncomfortable or you're not of age (18+), then PLEASE don’t read the part that comes after the asterisks (**).

“You’re up so early. Come back to bed,” Raoul murmured as he pulled the blankets closer to his body and rolled over to Erik’s side of the bed. He buried his face in Erik’s pillow and giggled to himself as soon as the familiar scent embraced him. 

Erik paid no attention to the invitation and scowled at his reflection instead. He slammed the brush down on the table in annoyance, ignoring the splatter of liquid kohl everywhere, and started cursing himself under his breath. Upon hearing this, Raoul quickly lifted his head and squinted at the direction of the noise. He caught a glimpse of Erik’s distressed reflection in the mirror.  
  
“Erik?” He hurriedly untangled himself from the sheets and rushed to his side. He cradled his face in his hands. “It’s okay. I’m here, Erik. Everything will be alright.”  
  
Erik placed his hands over Raoul’s and felt a tear slide down his cheek. “I look foolish.”  
  
“Oh, sweetheart,” the boy gently wiped his tears away with his right thumb. “Not at all. You’ve done a fine job.”  
  
Erik shook his head, his tears salty in his mouth. He tightened his grip on Raoul’s hands.

“We shall try one more time, alright? Let me take care of you.”  
  
He bit his lip in an attempt to stop more tears from falling.  
  
“Please?”  
  
He sniffed and finally gave a small, resigned nod. Raoul let out a sigh of relief. He kissed his forehead and smiled. “I’ll be a minute.”  
  
Raoul made his way to Erik’s bathroom and freshened up. Erik vacantly stared at the mess he made on the vanity table. He could no longer recall how many times Raoul had looked after him ever since that incident. It deeply concerned him that he relied on Raoul more than he intended. It must have been exhausting on Raoul’s part. To even be with him until this point was already some sort of miracle.

It was definitely a habit he was not proud of. 

He anxiously played with the fingers on his lap as he waited for Raoul, who later came with a rag and wiped the table clean. He then fetched a basin filled with water and some dry, soft towels and carefully set them on the table. He organized the contents on the table before turning Erik to his side, with his left side facing the mirror. He took another chair from the room, a bit taller than Erik’s, and placed it in front of him.

“A penny for your thoughts, Erik.”  
  
Erik blinked as his train of thought got interrupted. He murmured an apology while Raoul made himself comfortable on the chair.

“What are you apologizing for? I am glad I am of use to you.” Raoul picked up the jar of cold cream, removed the lid, and paused. 

“Do you...mind if I take your mask off?”  
  
Erik was reluctant at the idea. He always feared that the sight of his deformity had always upset Raoul and he just never bothered to bring up the matter to spare his feelings.  
  
Raoul set the jar back on the table and gave him a reassuring smile. “If it will make you uneasy, you don’t have to.”  
  
Erik gave it some thought and decided that he wanted to feel Raoul’s warmth as much as he could. Their eyes never left each other while he held the edge of his mask. Raoul gave him an encouraging nod. Erik carefully lifted the mask from his face, tensed immediately, and broke away from Raoul’s gaze. Raoul reached for Erik’s empty hand and cautiously took hold of the mask. He squeezed his hand. 

“I’m here. You’re safe with me.” Raoul patiently waited until he was able to calm down and gather himself.

“I’ll place your mask on your nightstand so it won’t get dirty.” He stood up but Erik refused to let go of his hand. 

“Erik, I am not leaving you,” he whispered softly. Erik's shoulders slumped as he released him. Raoul walked over to his nightstand and left his mask on the surface.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Raoul asked as he settled down on his chair. Erik shook his head and took a deep breath. His lips quivered as Raoul took his hands in his and pressed his lips against his knuckles. He glanced up at him. 

“Thank you for trusting me.”   
  
Erik saw how Raoul’s expression flickered with worry as he took in the sight of his flawed face. “Erik, you have been neglecting yourself.”  
  
Erik flinched as soon as Raoul touched his marred cheek. Raoul recoiled. “I’m sorry.”

When Erik regained his composure, he hesitantly asked for permission. “May I?”   
  
Erik let him examine the dry patches on his disfigured side. The young man softly clicked his tongue and brushed his thumb over the delicate skin. “You promised that you would take proper care of it.”  
  
“But Erik hates the thought of looking at or touching something so...grotesque...”  
  
“You ought to treat yourself kinder.” Raoul sighed and submerged the dry towel in water. “Swear to me that you will let me do it if you are unable to.”

“It is too bothersome,” Erik muttered while Raoul cleaned the twisted skin as gently as possible.

“I promise you it is far from that. Depend on me a little more, I beg of you.” Raoul pressed the dry towel on the newly cleansed area. Erik only grunted in response.

Raoul took some cold cream from the jar and warmed the cream between his hands. Erik shivered as the paste touched his skin. Raoul made sure to coat the areas painted with embellishments.  
  
“Close your eyes.” Erik did as he was told and leaned a little bit closer, enjoying the sensation from Raoul’s cool fingers sliding against his skin. He hoped Raoul did not notice but if he did, he did not mention it. Raoul patted his forehead and brows gently where creases have formed.   
  
“Relax a little?” Erik did what he was told. “Good boy.”  
  
Erik blushed as soon as he heard the pet name. Raoul continued to massage the cream on the exposed skin—gentler around the eyes—until he was certain that the powder, kohl, rouge, and lip salve were properly dissolved. He reached for the damp cloth and removed the residue from his face and neck, and used the dry towel to soak up the moisture on his skin. He wiped his hands afterwards.

He took a moment to admire him.

“What?” Erik nervously fiddled with the material of his nightshirt.

“You’re breathtaking.” 

Erik clutched the fabric. “Lies.”

Raoul took his hand and laid it on his chest. “Does it feel like I’m lying?”

Erik withdrew his hand as soon as he felt how his heart thumped violently against his chest, and turned red from his neck to ears which earned a small chuckle from Raoul. He pointed out how adorable he was while he scooped out a fair amount of cold cream from the container. He warmed up the cold cream between his fingers again and slathered a thick layer on the mangled skin, tending to it as gently as he could. He moved to the other side, a thin layer this time, down to his neck. This served as a barrier between his skin and the powder, and at the same time, an adhesive for it.   
  
“You find it repulsive to touch, do you not?”  
  
“On the contrary…” A blush crept on his cheeks as he wiped the product off his hands with the damp cloth. “I quite like how it feels.”  
  
Erik raised his sparse eyebrows in surprise, unsure of how to respond.   
  
Flustered, Raoul averted his eyes and silently scolded himself for admitting such a stupid thing. Raoul cleared his throat and fumbled with the lid of the powder before Erik could respond. He dusted a generous amount of the finely milled cloud on the puff and began patting it on his face, avoiding the side where the mask will be worn.

“I did not mean anything inappropriate by it,” Raoul hastily stuttered in a defensive tone.

“That did not even cross my mind,” Erik’s lips curved upwards in amusement and proceeded to study him silently while he continued pressing the powder against his skin. 

“What?” Raoul murmured shyly, still mortified about his confession. He only hoped Erik would drop the matter.  
  
“You are...truly exquisite. How did I ever get so fortunate?” Raoul paused for a brief moment as the flush in his cheeks deepened.  
  
“You have stolen my line, monsieur. It is _I_ who is the lucky one,” Raoul corrected.  
  
“Don’t talk rubbish.”  
  
“You ought to put a little more faith in my words,” Raoul huffed and continued dusting the powder down to his neck, in a rougher, playful fashion.  
  
“I don't see ho—” Raoul silenced him by covering his lips with the powder puff, a smug smile on his lips. He swiftly replaced it with his mouth moments later, but before Erik could process the kiss, Raoul pulled away and started coughing.  
  
“That is what you deserve for playing dirty,” Erik grumbled, face as red as the rouge on his vanity table. Raoul coughed until he got rid of the powder in his mouth. 

“It was worth the trouble,” Raoul giggled.

He moistened a bit of kohl with water and dipped the fine pointed brush into the mixture. He leaned closer and with a light hand, drew small, light strokes on Erik’s brow. He later realized he had been holding his breath due to his fear of making mistakes. He took a few deep breaths and painted the rest of his brow as Erik liked it: extremely dark and with a high, strong arch. He had to hold back a laugh when he remembered the time he drew it a bit straighter. Erik berated him for making him look friendlier.

“Have you ever wondered why I love watching you get ready at the vanity table?”   
  
“I have already come to terms with your peculiarity. An explanation is no longer needed,” Erik said in a nonchalant manner.  
  
Raoul rolled his eyes. “And whose fault do you think that is? I think your strangeness has rubbed off on me.”

He dipped the brush for the last time and finished with the tail. 

“It is because I have never seen you so happy like that before.” He leaned back and felt his heart swell with pride as he admired his masterpiece. He placed the brush back on the table and let the ink dry.

Erik raised his freshly painted eyebrow. “You’ve never—? You are a fool to think that I am not the happiest with you.”

“By God, you will be the death of me!” Raoul covered his face in embarrassment and mumbled something incoherent. He finally brought his hands down. “No matter...I am still grateful that you decided to share something so private with me.”  
  
He found a flat brush and smeared it with kohl.

“Close your eyes for me?” He pressed the brush on his eyelid and blended it up to his crease. As soon as Erik opened his eyes, he brought the shadow down to his lower eyelid.

With the thinnest brush, he dipped it into the dampened kohl. He thinly lined his eyes from the middle of his eyelid to the outer corner. He formed another line from the inner corner and connected it to the first line he created.   
  
“It is quite amusing to see you so serious,” Erik remarked out of the blue.   
  
Raoul soaked the brush with kohl and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
“I am simply saying that for someone who is easily distracted...it is quite a rare sight.”   
  
”It is because you are important to me,” Raoul whispered as he lifted the brush from his eyelid. Erik struggled to come up with a quick-witted response, completely overwhelmed by the boy’s honesty.   
  
Raoul reached for the small puff and coated it with the powdered rouge. He intended to layer it on Erik’s cheek but halted in amusement, taking pleasure on how crimson he had gone. “Oh my. It appears that rouge will no longer be needed.”  
  
“Give me that,” Erik tried to pry the small puff out of his hand but Raoul was quick to move it out of his reach. He got up on his feet and attempted once more to seize it, but lost his balance and found himself on Raoul’s lap, with his back facing the vanity table. Erik could have freed himself as easily but Raoul’s unclothed torso distracted him from forming any coherent thoughts.

“You will get uncomfortable doing it like this.” Raoul shushed him and pressed the puff against his cheek and blended until it matched the natural pink hue on his skin. 

Erik reluctantly held onto his bare shoulders as he let him do his work. It was an awkward position. Raoul had to lift his head given that Erik was taller than he was. He could probably hear how his heart pounded intensely against his chest at their closeness. His fingertips burned and he had to mentally curse Raoul for always wearing something so revealing whenever he stayed for the night.

 _Why_ must he only wear his drawers to bed?

It took everything in him not to let his eyes wander down past his collarbone. He busied himself with Raoul’s slightly parted lips instead, which was nowhere helpful. He gulped as Raoul’s scent slowly overtook his senses. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from leaning in.

Raoul, unaware of Erik’s turmoil, reached out for the small jar on the table and glazed his ring finger with the ointment.

“Open your mouth.” Erik was too restless to obey.

“What?”

Raoul repeated himself.

“Why?” Erik stuttered absentmindedly.

Raoul showed him his tinted finger. Erik was finally able to process his request and opened his mouth. He shuddered when Raoul coated his lips with the salve and slid his finger from his cupid’s bow to the edges of his mouth, down to his uneven lower lip. He felt Raoul linger on his lips for a moment. Raoul cleared his throat as soon as he snapped out of his trance, returning the small container down on the table. 

“Your lips are dry,” Erik breathed and caressed the dry patches on his lips.

“It must be the powder.” Raoul felt the rough skin under his fingertips. “Do you mind if I have some of the salve?”

Erik nodded. “Go ahead.”

A shiver ran down his spine as soon as he felt Raoul’s fingers graze the nape of his neck. Raoul guided him down and brushed his mouth against his before finally pressing them together. He would have lost his balance and fell if not for Raoul holding him in place. His head whirled at the sensation of his lips smooth and slippery against his, the balm on his lips smearing on Raoul’s.

Erik pulled away with a whimper as soon as he felt Raoul’s warm fingers on his deformity.

“Hush now, you’re safe with me.” Raoul brushed his thumb on the deformed skin. Erik placed his right hand over Raoul’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I won’t hurt you.” 

Erik was able to let himself relax as soon as Raoul’s kisses became much gentler. Raoul smiled in the kiss, lips never leaving his until he was certain they were coated with the buttery texture. 

He expressed his gratitude afterwards, to which a dazed Erik was not able to respond.**

He clicked his tongue and cooed, “now, look at you, darling. The salve has worn off a bit. Whatever should we do to make it better?”

Erik found himself at the mercy of Raoul’s kiss once again. He dug his nails into the young man’s shoulders every time he felt the pressure from his teeth nibbling on his lower lip, to which Raoul responded with a moan. He did the same with the upper lip, sinking his teeth hard enough that it stung, but not hard enough for it to bleed. A chuckle rose from the boy’s throat when he heard Erik whine at the absence of Raoul’s lips from his own numb ones.

“So it is true that biting one’s lips indeed makes them rosier.” Raoul nodded to himself as he admired his work of art. He wiped the thread of saliva from Erik’s mouth and clicked his tongue. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

“Not enough,” Erik managed to croak out.

“Hm?” Raoul feigned innocence at the statement.

“The color is...still...not...as opaque as I would like it to be,” Erik stammered. 

“Perhaps a bit more salve then?” Raoul teased and reached for the small jar on the table. 

The salve container slipped from his hand and landed on the floor with a soft thud as soon as Erik roughly pressed his lips against Raoul’s. Raoul responded just as eagerly. His hands wandered down to the skirt of Erik’s nightshirt and lifted it up to his thighs. He grunted in disappointment the moment he felt Erik’s drawers underneath, but the thought of Erik still dressing so modestly around him as though they had not been intimate in bed before deeply aroused him. He desperately tugged at the material of his undergarment.

Erik gasped against his lips and stuttered. “What are you—” 

“Stand up and straddle me. Hurry,” Raoul groaned in the kiss, impatient.   
  
Erik struggled to situate himself in the position Raoul desired. He shivered at the weight of Raoul’s tongue finding its way in his mouth. He drank in the moans of Raoul as he settled himself on his lap, squirming the instant he felt his erection pressing against his own. Raoul lifted his hips, in dire need for friction. Erik grunted in pleasure as Raoul continued to grind against him. 

He whispered his lover’s name in between kisses, gripping his soft blonde locks the second Raoul started roaming his hands on his thighs. He massaged them and slowly moved upwards until he palmed Erik’s hard length through his drawers. Erik jolted, the abruptness causing Raoul to sink his teeth into Erik’s lips harder than he had intended. Raoul pulled away at the taste of metal on his tongue.

“Oh God. Erik, are you okay?” Raoul’s touched his lips gently, applying enough pressure until the crimson dripped out of the cut and slid down his fingers. Raoul licked it off his finger, much to Erik’s surprise.

“Why did you—“

“Let me clean that up for you.” He hungrily claimed his lips once more and grazed his tongue over the puncture, licking the blood off the fresh wound. He grunted as the taste coated his tongue and continued to swallow every drop until the taste no longer pervaded his mouth.

“Raoul,” Erik breathed as the younger man trailed kisses under his jaw, smearing some of the blood down his neck.

“All better?” He mumbled, lips never leaving his skin. He led Erik’s hand to his bare chest down to his own aching member as he continued to leave marks on his skin.

“Raoul, wait. I must get dressed for the day.” Erik blushed as he felt the throbbing shaft against his hand.  
  
“But I want you to get _undressed.”_ He sighed against his skin, tasting the powder, dry on his tongue. “You’re so pretty. I want to make love to you.  
  
“For God’s sake, you have no shame,” Erik panted as Raoul nipped at his collarbone.  
  
“Let me take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you so much for reading and i hoped you liked it just as much as i did writing it! x


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